At the end of the Horizon
by pottachu
Summary: This dust has been here longer than I and I wonder if it feels more drawn out than I.So much has happened since I have landed on this planet that my days begin to melt together…The Sunrise is ending... Vash's point of view, oneshot, Critics wanted


Author's note: I would like to extend a hand of thanks and acknowledgement; after reading _Every Morning_ (by Amanda The Stampede) I felt compelled and inspired to pick up the rough draft of this story. It rested in the back of my mind until I felt the right moment of peace and inspiration to finish it. By the way, critics wanted and as always, thanks for reading…

* * *

Life is long. 

I knew it would be if fully lived. It was long, and now I felt it.

When I was young, death was so negative- especially if it was provoked. I understood no human could live forever, and no human could live even as long as I. Elderly passed away and that was understandable. Some lives were taken away by petty mistakes and others by debauched individuals…but in the end…we all die.

How many have lived on this desert planet? All die, but who lived? When the suns rose every morning, who watched? When love was uncovered, who went after it? We all have a chance to live, and it is our choice to grasp it.

A woman from long ago told me to find life. Everyone is given agency, and everyone has the privilege to exercise it- and that is why it is essential to know our boundaries.

_-_

_No one ever has the right to take a life of another_

-

Rem…Saverem…

I look out through the tainted window and see day break over the dry planet. Splashes of color dash in line with the suns' rays and overlap the lightening sky. Light begins to overtake the dark shady areas of the landscape. By the time the twin suns are up, all unknown shapes will be notorious. The dry dirt and hills of the landscape will be revealed to look the same as yesterday's.

For a moment my eyes get caught on the glass of the window. Dust and dirt have clung onto it from Tuesday's wind storm. If I hit it, I know the debris will crumble off into oblivion because of the lack of humidity- because of the nature of this dry planet. I wonder how many times the dirt has crumbled.  
This dust has been here longer than I and I wonder if it feels more drawn out than I.

So much has happened since I have landed on this planet that my days begin to melt together. I know one day I lived under another name, one day I had a bounty, and one day I traveled with two insurance girls. The next day I was traveling with my brother and the one after that I was living with a woman. Then I am not sure when or if it overlapped other significant days, but I know during one day I had a job and my own home. For a short time I knew a priest…but I don't remember what time frame we met or when he died. I've seen so many pass away… young, old, close, far. I feel like the horizon- stretched tightly across the desert and unable to distinguish how much ground I cover. If I were to stretch any further, I think I would snap. Time is convoluted.

I stare at the window and see my own reflection from the shoulders up. The face in it looks younger than I feel, but older than I remember. An old face…

And apart from time, faces bother me as well. I know so many faces, but when did I know them? And what were their names? Which are still living and which have passed on? When I try to sort it out, I am frustrated. Once I could name all of them- they are such important individuals to me. Everyday I see my wife's face, but I never remember her name. She meant so much to me! When did my mind find it a good time to raid my memory and dispose of such important information? I do not remember when we met, but I had known her for a while. I do not know when we were married, how long we were married, or our wedding colors, but I am proud the most important knowledge about her is still retained: I can remember her love, her soul, her personality. She was beautiful and kept me on my toes. Always appealing to talk to, and sparked my interest. Because of her, I felt I was someone…someone I could accept. I was good enough…for her.

_What is her name?!_

Tired of standing, I sit on the edge of my bed. It's an old bed, I can tell by the carvings on the bedpost, the curves and circles, and also by the chewed marks on the leg. This bed was once host to a puppy's teething itch. I know several other objects have attacked it; gnashes and cuts occupy the outer side of the bedpost. I am unable to decipher what could have marked it, I'm sure they are personal stories…

I am host to one hundred scars, two prosthetic limbs, and three diseases. Every inch of skin tissue is chaliced. The large star-shaped scar embroidered in my upper abdomen was a result from rescuing a harassed young woman from three drunks, the three lines on my ankle are from my cat, and the slash on my cheek is what happens when you try to calm my brother. If I didn't have these scars, I would not know these stories. If I did not have a dent in my stomach, I would not remember I had won against Brilliant Dynamite Neon and helped rescue passengers. Had I not retained the pierce in my heart, I would have not remembered I have loved.

This bed must have many memories.

The suns are still rising, and I feel tired already. One day my life will end too.

I don't expect to be remembered, The Humanoid Typhoon is already a haze and legend. No, no mortal mind can fully retain me, for it had been my job to retain all else. Some will grieve for me when it comes, for it is a hard thing not to do- _I know_. But do not feel sorry, for I have lived. I have tasted the best moments of living and have experienced the simplest joys. Somewhere the horizon must end.

My thoughts end. Soon the market will be open. It's Thursday. Donuts will be half off today.

I end my lounging. I end my thinking. The sunrise is ending.


End file.
